Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) (26 page)

              The Prosecutor accused me of lying to the police to demonstrate that I was lying now and asked why I hadn't said in my statement that I feared M may be subjected to further abuse.  I reiterated the answers I had already given over and over - my need to see M and the fact that I couldn't go behind the Finding of the  Family Court Judge, the brother of the Attorney General.  I had believed that he would keep me in custody if I went behind his judgment. 

              This angered the Prosecutor even more who asked; "Did you really believe that the fact they are brothers would mean you would not be treated fairly?"  I countered that by now that I didn’t believe that any local Judge would treat me fairly, brother or not." There was an audible intake of breath by the Criminal Judge at this point.  He was clearly furious that I dared to suggest the Court may not be impartial. 

              The prosecutors relentless questioning was punctuated from time to time by the Judge who intervened also firing questions at me and trying to get me to admit that I had fled merely to avoid losing M.  I repeated the same answers to him as I had given to the Prosecutor. 

              As the hours passed, I became increasingly exhausted.  My legs ached and I was getting weaker and weaker from standing so long.  Still I persisted in standing my ground, trying to hold my nerve and not fall into the traps that they were clearly trying to set me for me.  At times I was moved to tears, especially in recounting what I sincerely believed to have happened to my son. I couldn't contain my emotion and it tumbled forth as I tried to withstand the brutal, furious attack on my integrity.  I kept my mind on M and knew that I must take this opportunity for the truth and our voices to be heard.  I gave my all and more trying to stay free for him and strong in the face of such hostility. 

              At last lunch time broke my torturous turn on the stand and the Judge ordered a recess of an hour.  A representative for the
Times
newspaper had arrived and was sitting on the bench reserved for the press.  She wanted me to speak to a more senior journalist,  namely Camilla Cavendish, who specialised in Family Court matters, later on in the week.  I could obviously not  speak to the press until I'd finished giving evidence.  One thing was certain though, I had their sympathy.

              I was on the stand for two whole days being bullied, interrogated and accused.  Intermittently the Judge would take over from the Crown Prosecutor in battering me.  He too tried to get me to say that I'd run to avoid my child being taken into care.  Of course, I had run to avoid him being taken and given to a child abuser – what woman would hand an innocent seven year old over to a Nazi regime to indoctrinate him into accepting a man who had harmed him repeatedly and violated his pure little body and soul? 

              I'd spoken the truth from my heart over and over.  I let all the maternal love I felt for M pour into that Courtroom, but looking at the faces of the jury – I wondered where their heart and souls lay. Still they sat there motionless, compassionless and unmoved.  

              The Prosecutor’s questions became more personal and brutal as he tried to unnerve me and prove that I didn't really see M's father as a risk and there were moments where I simply didn't have the answer to a particular question because so much had happened in only a few months that it was hard to remember how I'd reasoned things at the time.  Most of my actions had been taken quickly out of the necessity to protect M and were the instinctive actions of any mother whose child's life is threatened. 

              I was asked why I hadn't thought I would have a chance of putting forward my case at the hearing that had been scheduled for the day after the Multi-Agency meeting; the same meeting where I had been told by the Reviewing Manager that there was nothing I could do and they would be taking my son on a supposition of coaching - despite the lack of any evidence whatsoever.   His job was to weaken our case and show that M had been in no immediate danger.  Our case was to show that whether the Court agreed with me or not, I believed sincerely that he was at risk and had run for that reason alone.                Ironically, to run because you don't want to lose your child is not a defence - even if your child's wish is to remain with you.  It was imperative that the Jury believed that I had run because I feared for M's safety and that was, of course, the truth.  If the Prosecutor could demonstrate that the decision was premeditated, it would weaken our position and whilst I knew we hadn't decided to go until the night before we left, I couldn't think how I could demonstrate this to the Court.  I was not allowed to consult with my lawyers and had to go home at the end of the day with this question still unanswered.

              It wasn't until that night that I remembered a crucial piece of evidence that I had in my possession.  I suddenly remembered something that I'd forgotten earlier.  I'd removed my local lawyer from the case only days before we ran and in a desperate attempt to obtain better legal advice, I had met with a company of solicitors from Liverpool who had flown over for the day. I'd met with a family law barrister attached to this firm.  I'd then written to the Court stating my wish to adjourn the hearing whilst allowing time to obtain a licence to appoint UK counsel.  I had had no response from the Court but the emails  asking for this were still on my laptop and proved that had I stayed I would have been unrepresented at a critical hearing and would have had little hope of retaining my son under those circumstances with no time whatsoever to prepare myself.  This piece of information would show clearly that our decision to run was not premeditated and proved we had still intended to fight the case and had taken steps to this end right up until the last minute.

              I knew it was vital to get these emails on record, but didn't know the correct protocol and had no one I could ask. I was barred from discussing the case with anyone.  I spent hours trawling through my emails to find the relevant ones that showed I had withdrawn my local lawyer and had sought to reappoint and printed them off.  I then agonised all night as to how I might best put these before the Court and whether I would be allowed to do so.

              At ten O'clock the following morning, I once again took the stand and when the Judge came in and was seated, I asked if I might speak to him.  He looked rather surprised at this and my lawyers looked nervously at each other wondering what I was going to say.  I told him that I had crucial evidence that had not previously come before the Court that would assist in demonstrating why I had not felt confident that the hearing to decide my son’s fate would have allowed me any chance of retaining residency and thus protecting him from harm..  I asked if I might show him the emails and he nodded.

              The Court clerk took them to the bench for him to view.  I looked over at Phillip and smiled reassuringly, I knew that he would approve of what I was doing and I was willing him to trust me on this.  Knowing me as well as he now did, I knew that he knew I was capable of just about anything to fight for M and was probably thinking that whatever I was about to do might be self-incriminating without me realising, but my intuition was strong on this point and I knew that I was doing the right thing.  For once I had to trust my own judgement without the safety net of legal advice. 

              The Judge considered the emails for a few moments and I held my breath to see what he would decide.  He decided they were relevant and they were handed to the Prosecutor and Phillip in turn – Phillip looked at me and smiled back.  I believe I gained his respect at that moment as he realised just how important this evidence was.  I knew then I had done the right thing and the emails were put on record and read out to the Jury. 

              The Prosecutor looked furious.  This  evidence clearly demonstrated that I would have gone to Court had I been represented and that it was the fact that the Family Court Judge had not allowed me to adjourn that had left me in an impossible predicament.  Whilst it may not have been enough to sway the case or the Jury, it was an important piece of the jigsaw and one that weakened the Prosecution’s case.

              Running a "defence of necessity based on imminent risk" is hard to do in any Court but even harder in a country where it was widely believed that things happen for the greater good.

              The transfer of my house to my father was another problem we had to address.  It was imperative that we show that this was done as a means of raising funds and not an indication of a premeditated plan to run. The evidence I had found, assisted with this problem too because it showed we were still intending to fund counsel. 

              These were the kind of obstacles we had to overcome.  Whilst of course we had sometimes considered running away, until the night we fled, it was a fantasy that we never believed we would act upon.  We had loved our little house and I didn't want to take M from his friends, his school and everything he loved and knew, especially his grandfather.  Until our backs were  against the wall on that fateful day in June when we could see no other way out - we had never seriously considered leaving our home.  M often asked to go because in the simplicity of his child's mind he saw only that life was hard and could be changed for a better one.  Courts, lawyers and Orders were not things we discussed.  If
Bob the Builder
could fix it, then surely Mummy could. 

              Another factor that strengthened our case, somewhat strangely were my messages to friends and family on the Social Networking sites
Facebook
and
Twitter. 
In my state of despair I had communicated  my thoughts to those who knew me right up until midnight on the night before we ran - the messages, becoming ever more desperate as I now realised we had no choice but to flee. In doing so, I had left an important paper trail of my increasing despair which clearly demonstrated that our actions were taken as a last resort and the decision to flee had not been made until the eleventh hour. 

              The day dragged on and on, the questioning becoming more aggressive -   the Prosecutor determined. Earlier that day, I had overheard him talking to his assistant in a loud whisper, "don’t worry we're going to get a conviction on this one.”  I wondered how someone who really didn't know me could show such open hostility towards me, but I guess he was just doing his job.  How could he know that I was a deeply committed, loving and devoted mother? He knew nothing of the close bond M and I shared.  To him I was just a case number, another one to get in the bag and further his career. 

              I wished I could show him a snap-shot of the life we had had, with M playing happily in our seaside cottage - the times he had played basketball behind my father’s garage or gone cycling to the nearby lighthouse, our holidays, walks on the beach, carefree and happy. Surely if any of them could see into our hearts, they wouldn't be doing to us what they were now and depriving M of the person who loved him most in the world and always would.

              The crushing blows continued relentlessly. I was many times reduced to tears and so exhausted I feared I may not be able to keep standing.  However, I remained resolute in my determination not to sit down where I would be obscured.  I wanted to show my strength and dignity and ensure that every word of truth that I uttered could be heard and witnessed by the jury.  I prayed silently that I'd find the strength to keep on my feet, as I became increasingly weak and spent, telling myself that my part in this cruel charade was nearly over, gripping onto the wooden panels of the dock as I willed myself to keep upright - thinking only of my love for M. 

              I thought back to the day when M had run his heart out at his school Sports day, two days before we fled, winning the cup for his year for the third time running, and my pride that he had left on such a high note of success.  He had received the loudest applause ever, but it had been tinged with sadness, knowing that I had to take him from all of this in order to protect him and keep him safe.

              I don’t know how I managed to go on withstanding the harsh cross examination, but I found the strength from somewhere.  I spoke every word from my heart and for M and I kept my eye on the goal of reaching into the hearts of the Jury.  I gave it my all, never taking the breaks offered by the Judge, preferring to see it through to the quickest end.

              Proving that you have fled because you had no choice, is one of the hardest things to do.  In his summations, Phillip made an analogy with a hypothetical situation that should Anne Frank have stolen a car to escape from the Nazis, she would not be guilty of theft as she would have done so to avoid the imminent risk of being arrested and sentenced to death by the Nazis.  It was a good analogy for us - we were the Jews, the outcasts, the persecuted here – innocent victims of a fascist regime that turned on good mothers and children.  It was perhaps ironic that when I had as a girl, years before entered the local Drama festival, I performed an excerpt from the Diary of Anne Frank and when years later I had auditioned for Drama School, I had chosen this same piece.  Had I had some kind of premonition then of what was to come in my life?

              Needless to say, in the Family Court case, my drama training had been used against me to imply that I was a good actress and not to be believed.  The fact that I wrote novels had been used to discredit me too- the implication  that anyone who wrote fiction must automatically be a liar. It was absurd.  If this was the yardstick by which they tried people, then anyone who chose either of these professions would have no chance in the Family Court.